


Tittle-Tattle

by Cultivation



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Arkham Asylum, Background Relationships, Bisexual Harley Quinn, Bite-size fic TM, Bruce Wayne is Batman, But also I mess with canon a lot, Desperate Bruce Wayne, Everyone Is Gay, Explicit Language, F/F, Fix-It of Sorts, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gay, I Ship It, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Jealousy, Kind of subdue from what I usually do, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Light Angst, Living Together, M/M, Mild Gore, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne, Minor Violence, Mixed Canon, New 52, New 52 Suicide Squad Harley, No Smut, POV Harley Quinn, Past Relationship(s), Random & Short, References to Canon, Romance, Rumors, Short & Sweet, bud and lou
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-07-29 21:09:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20088817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cultivation/pseuds/Cultivation
Summary: Harley has a degree — a goddamn doctorate actually. Yet, despite all this, she never saw any of the signs. She only ever saw what she wanted to see…What she truly wants to know is if Ivy was right. If the whispers on the streets and the gossip at Arkham amount to anything. She wants to know if Joker truly likes Batman in that way.





	1. Reminisce

Harley has achieved, collected, and owned a lot of things in her life. She has two pet hyenas that act like dogs. She has a tattoo of a skull on her upper right thigh that has bleeding hearts for eyes. She has years of acrobatic training under her belt, making her body flexible and fit for all kinds of strenuous activities. She has fifteen different boxes of crayons, each from a different brand and each a different set amount. She has twenty-one succulents, all watered regularly by her _ friend _Ivy. She has a bunk bed that she shares with Ivy, her bunk sporting blue sheets and pillow covers and a red duvet. She has their joint cell decorated with tiny diamonds, hearts, and declarations of love written across the stark white walls. She has an orange prison jumpsuit and long duel colored hair, tied up in ponytails that manage to stay in place under extreme circumstances. She has education, given to her by her parents’ endless working hours spent throughout her life. She has experience with class and society, falling from the top and landing ever so gracefully at the bottom. Harley has a degree — a goddamn doctorate, actually. Yet, despite all this, she never saw any of the signs. She only ever saw what she wanted to see.

It was a year into it when she noticed he didn't like her. She was testing him, flirting with other men in his presence. He didn't seem to mind, much less care. His attention, as always, was preoccupied on the Bat. When he planned, he always requested dead silence. Within the first few months, after the eventful murder of one of his most trusted henchman when his coughing fit became too _ distracting_, Harley realized attending the planning sessions was pointless and dangerous. He had a temper, which Harley learned the hard way. That was the first time she had seen brain matter splattered across the wall. It wouldn't be her last. She had hoped things would get better, that'd he would pay more attention to her. Perhaps the plan was intricate and needed special focus to work out all the kinks. But whenever he wasn't planning things, at night or when they were acting on said plans, he tended to treat her as any other one of his henchmen. He didn't want to have sex with her either, which made her even more concerned.

But, Harley knew that just because they ignored you didn't mean they didn't love you. In her childhood, spent with her many brothers and sisters, she never received as much attention as she had wanted. Her mother went to work every day, from dawn to dusk. Her father, who was a social worker at Arkham, usually came home late with little to say to anyone; she admired him somewhat in her youth. She liked to distract herself with fitness, particularly gymnastics. But as she grew older, and more and more restless, Harley had double-downed on becoming better than her miserable little family. She wanted to become a full-blown psychologist. At first, her grades were less than amazing. In high school, her grades were average at best. College was even more stressful and irritating. But, she got through it, after a painfully long process to achieve her doctorate. Along the way, she had slept with professors. Some of them gave her better grades, others didn't. That wasn’t really why she slept with them anyway. It was to give her the faux feeling of independence from her parents and her family. She needed to feel unique, to stand out in the crowd; she needed _attention._ All her life she had craved it. When the Joker had supplied her with attention, told her things about himself that no one else knew, she had felt special. No one before had given that to her.

Batman just had to take it all away. Or, at least, that _ was _ her interpretation. After his breakout with her assistance, they headed to the chemical plant for her rebirth. When they arrived, the factory seemed rundown, different from what Joker had described; at the time, she thought that it was just aged. If she thinks about it now, it was disgusting. The metal walkways were rusted over and covered in wet footprints, making it slippery. She was also wearing heels, which only made the area more problematic to navigate. Joker seemed oblivious to it though, twirling around and looking gleefully at the gigantic vats of bubbling acid fluids. He paused at one of the vats, staring at it quietly. Then he twitched, a wide toothy grin spread across his face in a rather unpleasant manner, as if to cover up the quiet moment he just had. It was the first time she ever felt truly unnerved while in his presence. He turned to her, finally acknowledging her existence for the first time since they arrived at the plant, and graced her with a seemingly approachable nature. She didn’t think twice about the strange behavior or the weird nostalgia he seemed to harbor for the place. Harley didn’t think at all; she was in love. 

Batman crashed through the glass above and landed with a powerful thud onto the metal walkway across from Joker. Harley stood behind Joker, with a heated expression unraveling across her pretty features. She was pretty, she remembers that with the most brutal kind of self-loathing. Her eyes watched as Joker removed any kind of attention directed towards her and replaced it to the Bat; he always did take the spotlight. He narrowed his shiny white eyes at the display. Then, the Bat paid special attention to _her._ He looked surprised almost, but Harley knew better. He was devastated, the brows beneath his — his whatever the hell he wore on his head –– furrowing up in shock. Joker talked and Batman talked and left alone, Harley realized on her own what was happening. It was all too late though. That was the same moment she tripped over the grating and fell. It was itchy at first; then, it _burned_. She could briefly see above her that Joker and Bats were fighting each other; a split image of the Bat looking to her in horror remained in her memory. Harleen was sucked through the comically large drainage pipe and _ Harley _ was spat out into a puddle of the acid. She coughed up the chemicals from her mouth, with a bitter stinging taste on her tongue. As she did, she rolled her body out of the puddle and into a patch of dry dirt with decaying grass and dead dandelions. She passed out once in the dirt, her body on fire. When she awoke, Joker stood above her with a smile and an open hand, offering her a new life. She took it without thinking. She didn’t see herself in a mirror until five hours later.

She twirls the red side of her ponytails between her fingers and shudders at the memory. Joker, in all his time spent with her, only slept with her once. He was also drunk and clearly thinking about _ that _someone else. Harley didn’t mind it but, when she woke up alone, she knew she couldn’t stay any longer. It was the same day she first met Ivy. She left the Joker’s madhouse, with a few costumes, Bud and Lou, and a leather suitcase adorned with many stickers. She stole a car, unsure of where to go. She needed money so she came to the only conclusion she could: she needed to rob a bank. Harley drove back to the madhouse and scavenged for a gun. She grabbed one rather quickly, as well as an extra baseball bat. She returned to the car and left in a hurry. She knew Joker wouldn’t be happy if he saw her leaving. His brainless goons never paid her much attention anyway. Harley pulled up to the bank, a brief smirk gracing her face, and entered with a rush of adrenaline hitting her. There were only four people inside, including the bank tellers behind the glass. She fired the gun up in the air, forcing everyone’s eyes to snap to her. She never liked how people looked at her after “The Bleaching”, with fear and resentment, and she never got used to it. Even still, the memory gives her pause. If she thinks on it too long, the pause will lead to chills. Before, she was anyone else; but, now she had everyone’s attention, it was for all the wrong reasons. Harley grimaced to herself and bent behind the smashed-in glass to intimidate the bank teller. He raised his forearm to cover his face, his glasses reflecting her own face back at her.

_ “Get back, freak!” _

Harley never took criticism very well, but this was on a different level somehow. She had been called many different demeaning things in her life. The list was almost endless, really: bitch, slut, cunt, whore, hoe, bimbo, brat, dumb, stupid, idiotic. She had really heard it all. But, _ freak _ was not on the list before. Freak meant she had become someone else –– or, rather, something else. She didn’t like it one bit. Harley shot the bank teller in the foot. He screamed out in pain, almost on cue with the appearance of _her._ The flooring from beneath them rumbled at first, giving Harley a reasonable pause. The bank tellers and others took this time to run away from the bank. Harley stared on curiously as the rough carpet gave way to humongous vines. She fell back onto the crumbling ground, watching in shock and awe. Then, _ she _ arrived through them, plant life of all kinds surrounding her. She was sitting at first, on a throne of banana leaves and periwinkles. She stood up when she spotted Harley through the moving life. Harley liked girls; it was something she never really talked about because she never found it necessary. But, as she stared at the elegant and ever so breathtaking Poison Ivy, it became apparent to her once again _why _ she did like girls. She wasn’t really afraid of her. Ivy narrowed her eyes at her, circling her with interest. 

_ “You’re Joker’s plaything, aren’t you?” _

She smiled, with pretty pink lips and a tantalizing smile. 

_ “Want to help me?” _

It wasn’t long before they were friends. Harley decided it was best to stick with her; they lived together in her greenhouse. The place was thriving with so many different types of greenery. Vines grew from the inside, acting as curtains and blocking the glass view of the outside. Flowers of all colors were arranged _ by _ color, specifically by the color of the rainbow. It was a beautiful ombre that greeted Harley every time she passed it. Giant trees, with long branches and thick trunks, shed their leaves with the seasons that passed, covering the brick pathway in a variety of different kinds leaves. Batman would run into them on occasion but, seemingly every time, he was distracted away from them. Something –– or _ someone _ –– always seemed to take priority over them. Harley wonders if that is truly “The Joker Effect”, as Ivy refers to it. At first, what Ivy told her disturbed her. Even the implication that Joker liked Batman in _that _way was shocking. She didn’t want to believe it so… she didn’t. She placed it in the back of her mind, focusing on the present than what she considered in the past. While with Ivy, she learned loads about her. The doctor in Harley engaged her on this front, asking questions and always listening. Ivy didn’t seem to ask her many questions when they first met, simply keeping her around for her own amusement. But, as time went on, Ivy seemed to loosen up in this regard, inquiring often about things she did not know about Harley. It was a slow buildup between Ivy and Harley, with the Joker never interested in finding her. It was only when Harley and Ivy made headlines when apprehended, by Batman himself evidently, did he ever give her any attention. It was a phone call, the few designated ones Arkham Inmates could receive. The call had been arranged, one of his henchman passing her a note during her lunchtime, but it didn’t make it any less awkward. His words were lasting; it had been a year since they met, the very same day. 

_ “Stay away from Bats!” _

She sits in her cell, bunk beds with Ivy, and contemplates this phone call. Above her, Ivy is reading an extensive book about soil. Harley doesn’t bother her, knowing if she does, it will certainly not go in her favor. Instead, she lays down on the firm mattress, looking up at the metal springs of Ivy’s bed. She looks behind her at the succulents and the doodles all around the room. Harley takes all of this in gradually, a strange _ cold _ feeling passing through her. What she truly wants to know is if Ivy is right; she wants to know if the whispers on the streets, the tittle-tattle in the tabloids, and the gossip within Arkham’s walls amount to anything. She wants to know if Joker truly likes Batman in _ that _way. She no longer needs to know if he loves her; she knows that was never the case from the beginning. She just needs confirmation. But, she needs a plan. She has never been good at planning, and when she was good, no one ever appreciated them. Ivy is the only one who ever tried out any of her plans and, almost mockingly, they never turned out well for either of them. She sighs and Ivy, above her, shuts her book dramatically. 

“What is it now?” asks Ivy. Harley turns to lay on her side, the springs of her bed screeching loudly. Harley looks to the concrete floor, clean and slate gray. She stares with contained bitterness, something she refuses to plague Ivy with. “Harls?” she asks again.

“It’s nothing, Red.” Ivy raises an eyebrow, dangling her legs over the edge of the bed. She jumps down from the edge of the bed and sits in front of Harley with a concerned expression. Harley smiles faintly at her.

“You’re thinking about something, just tell me.” Harley sighs again and sits up from the bed. Ivy looks at her curiously as Harley scratches her hair. 

“I’ve just been thinking—“ 

“A dreadful thing to do—“

“And I want to see it, with my own eyes, ya know?” Ivy furrows her brows with an amused expression.

“And what would that be?” Harley looks down, embarrassed.

“Them together...” Ivy looks at her with confusion. She sighs again and then, decides to clarify. “Mister J and Bats,” she whispers harshly. Ivy looks at her then, throws her head back, and laughs. Harley crosses her arms, her face turning into a temporary scowl.

“Come on, Harls. You know that’s all just talk, right?” She keeps her arms crossed and Ivy sighs. “Harley, you’re serious about this?” She nods and gets up from the bed to pace the cell.

“Look, Red, I just need to know, okay? I don’t even expect to see anything, I just want confirmation, ya know?” She rambles. Ivy blinks blankly and nods slowly. “All we got to do is spy on them during one of their big fights. Can’t be too hard, right?” 

“I thought you said you were over him, Harls,” Ivy says. Harley rolls her eyes briefly.

“I am!” she exclaims, exasperated. “That’s not why I wanna know.”

“How do you even know you’ll catch them doing it anyway? Bats doesn’t seem like the type––” Harley sighs in anguish. 

“I know the chances are slim, Red. I just wanna know if that’s why he never—“

“Loved you?” She finishes for her. Harley pauses her pace and nods in her direction. Harley turns somber, her pace slowing. “You know he used you. Why does it even matter what he and Batman do?”

“Because, _Pam,_ I need confirmation. I need to know that I wasn’t paranoid. That it wasn’t somethin’ I coulda fixed. That I... was right.” Ivy gets up from the floor and walks over to Harley. She takes Harley’s hand in her own and looks at her with a deathly serious expression.

“There’s nothing you could have done, Harley. He’s the Joker, all he cares about is himself.” She squeezes Harley’s hand in her own and smiles at her with those oh so _ pretty _lips. She thinks about them, even though Poison Ivy’s alluring effects have no real effect on her anymore. She gave her the injection early into their friendship, ensuring that she would never be under her complete control. It was a nice gesture then. Now, it only makes her feel more desperate. She smiles at Ivy and squeezes her hand back.

“I just need to know, Red. I just need to know.” Ivy twitches, something like jealously in her eyes. “Will ya help me?” Ivy huffs but relents.

“Yes, I’ll help you—“ Harley jumps into her, pulling her arms around Ivy and squeezing her into a brutal hug.

“Thank you so much—“

“But, only on one condition.” Harley pulls back from her and cocks her head to the side.

“And what’s that, Red?” she asks.

“I’ll tell you when we get there,” Ivy says cryptically. Harley nods slowly, unsure of what Ivy could possibly want from her. 

“Whatever you say, Red.”

The next day, Ivy seduces a guard for a keycard. The act is so easy that Harley is almost enraged she never tried it earlier.


	2. Clarity

It takes much longer than either of them expect for Joker to engage Batman. It takes even longer to find a way to sneak up on them. Around two weeks after their uneventful escape from Arkham, they decide to wait up in a different greenhouse from before. Ivy finds it hard to leave the last one, shedding tears as she does. Her plants coo after her as she drives away. Harley pats on her back to comfort her. The new greenhouse is near Ace Chemicals, which never fails to send chills up Harley’s spine. She ignores it though, focusing on settling down in the new greenhouse. She puts up a few posters she gathered from the old place and puts them up with the help of Ivy and her mysterious saplings. The sap helps to stick the posters to the glass and she thanks the plants with a gentle stroke of their petals. Ivy smiles at her and Harley rests on her literal bed of roses. Ivy sits down on her throne of banana leaves and elephant ears, petting them lovingly. Harley’s hyenas, Bud And Lou, sleep at Harley’s bedside, snoring loudly. Harley closes her eyes and briefly thinks that this is the most comfortable she has ever felt. She loves it here and she is no longer afraid to admit so. She loves to be at Ivy’s side, even at the direst of circumstances. 

She inhales sharply, taking in all of the fresh aromas in the room. The roses stand out the most to her. She pets Bud and Lou as they sleep. Ivy is reading again, her red hair tucked behind her ear. She wears a pair of black reading glasses. Her green eyes, that Harley knows ever so well, can hypnotize almost anyone. They never seem to work on Batman though, which is yet another peculiar thing on the list she keeps in her head. Ivy has told her those who have an intense romantic connection do not fall as easily to her; despite this, it doesn’t explain exactly why he doesn’t fall as easily. They all still fall. She does know one thing, other than Ivy’s own concoction, that could combat her allure. Joker, in all of his usefulness, has a serum that is meant to combat his Joker toxin. Harley knows once you take it, you’re seemingly resistant to any kind of inhalant. He never gave it to anyone, not his henchman or her. It only adds to the crazy theory. She thinks of this list and all the things on it. They all make her seem crazy, which isn’t _untrue,_ but she knows she has more of a reason to suspect this than anyone. She smiles to herself, ready for the world to reveal itself to her. She goes to sleep easily, falling into her dreams. In her dreams, she spots Ivy. Ivy is surrounded by roses of black, white, and red. They form a heart around her. She ushers Harley to come towards her, a twinkle of red and blue reflecting in her eyes. Harley inches closer until she is only a few centimeters away from Ivy’s face. She smiles and reaches her hands to Harley’s hair. She undoes her ponytails and throws back her head to look up at the black abyss that surrounds them. But as she looks up, so does Harley. The black turns into an empty blue sky. The sun shines brightly against them, casting Ivy in a heavenly glow. The light hits the black ground and turns it into vibrant, healthy, and green grass. Throughout the grass, flowers of kinds and colors are sprout across the field. Ivy looks back down at Harley, catching her awestruck look. 

_ “What do you see, baby?” _she asks. Harley smiles goofily, twirling and falling into the flowery meadow. She motions her arms and legs as if to make a snow angel. They bend the grass and flowers beneath her movements, leaving an imprint.

_ “It’s clear.” _

“Harley!” Ivy yells, shaking her relentlessly. “Get up, it’s happening!” Harley rubs her eyes, groggy.

“W-What is it, Red?” Harley asks. Ivy drags her from the bed, pulling her arm and throwing her a shirt and shorts. She takes them with surprise as Ivy turns to her with a hand on her hip.

“This was your idea, not mine. It’s happening, let’s go.” Harley nods, getting dressed quickly and rushing to the car outside. It’s a red convertible, with silver trim and accents. She has desperately attempted in the past two weeks for Ivy to let her paint diamonds on it. She refuses every time. Harley doesn’t ask this time. Ivy looks to her as she is driving, in a pair of khaki shorts and a blue dress shirt. What she had thrown Harley is more revealing. She has on blue bell-bottoms, and a crop top red flannel. Harley is quiet for most of the drive, not bothering to ask where they’re going. She knows all the places Joker frequents by heart, for better or worse. She is thinking mostly about the dream, fresh in her memory. Harley smiles to herself, catching Ivy’s attention, and undoes her ponytails. She messes around with her hair, fluffing it until it looks more _ naturally _ messy. “Harls, your hair looks nice that way.” Ivy looks back to the road.

“It does?” Harley asks. Ivy nods and Harley smiles, a flush against her chalky skin. They drive until they reach the bayside, next to an abandoned fairground. Harley has been here before; she recognizes the Ferris wheel she fought Batman on once. There is a commotion coming from within the grounds, the sound of funhouse music filling the surrounding area. Harley knows the song by heart. Ivy parks the car a block away from it. They get out silently, Harley leading the way and Ivy following blindly. Harley resists the urge to hum along to the tune. She pushes open the metal gating easily and walks into the entrance of the fair. All around, there are stands for food and games. Harley passes one with a large stuffed beaver; she plucks it from behind the stands rather easily. Ivy rolls her eyes. They walk towards the music, rather confused in which direction it is coming from; Harley spots the speakers it comes from and finds they are all around the grounds. They both stop when they hear the gunshots. Ivy walks to be at Harley’s side, grasping her hand once more. She points her head in the direction and Harley nods. They walk together, hand and hand, towards the sounds. Harley sees them first, a flicker of the large cape sweeping behind him. The Bat has always been massive, but his cape often makes him seem larger than life. They are in the derby arena, where the monster trucks used to ride. Harley had gone here as a child. She doesn’t have time to reminisce before Ivy pulls her back. 

“We need to the announcer’s booth,” she whispers. 

“How are we gonna do that?” Harley whispers back. Ivy smiles and the points at the earth beneath them. Harley smiles back as Ivy propels a small plant from the ground. The small plant thrives and grows into a platform for both of them to stand on. It boosts them up immediately; Harley clutches tightly onto her stuffed beaver. When it reaches the top, both of them cautiously step onto the metal stands behind the booth. They stealthily sneak inside while the Joker and Batman distract themselves down below. The door is luckily unlocked, probably due to the Joker’s meddling. Neither one of them voices that. Ivy shuts the door behind them and takes a seat in one of the desk chairs provided. Harley resigns to stand and watch them from above, placing her new stuffed animal in the other desk chair. Joker is still shooting at him, with a grin wider than she has ever produced. Batman charges him, knocking the gun out of his hands at the impact. Light-colored dirt is thrown into the air around them at every single one of their footfalls. From above, Harley thinks Batman doesn’t seem nearly as intimidating. It could also be contributed to the fact that she isn’t one of his current targets. Joker’s body collides against Batman’s, his back slamming into the concrete wall behind him. He laughs as Batman holds him up by the neck and throws him down to the ground away from the concrete. Harley watches in awe, unsure who to root for in this fight. Normally, it would be Joker, her _puddin’._ But, things have changed since her last encounter with Joker. She doesn’t really have those same feelings towards him, mostly because he didn’t share her feelings. She sees that Joker is talking and cannot hear it within the booth. She rushes to open the door, passing Ivy who looks at her nails dully. “I can’t hear them, I’m going to open the door.”

“I can see that,” Ivy says sarcastically. Harley just smiles at her as she pokes her head out to hear them. Ivy, unknown to Harley, mimics her and pokes her head out the door to hear. Batman stands over Joker, who lays on the ground. Joker’s upper torso is up, held up by his arms. He backs away from Batman slowly, using one of his arms to wipe away the blood from his chin. Blood smears against his white skin even more, with an orange tint to it. Harley isn’t surprised to find herself looking at her own skin, the same unnatural shade. She catches herself though, looking back to them without a moment’s notice. Surprisingly, Batman doesn’t seem remotely angry. If Harley could gather anything from all her education, his body language speaks that he is tired and not much else. 

“We don’t have to keep doing this,” Batman speaks. His deep voice rises above the funhouse music. Harley furrows her brows, concentrated on the pair. Joker spits out some blood to his left and giggles mirthlessly as it soaks into the dirt. Batman’s cape drapes in front of his shoulders, enveloping his entire body in black.

“Ohhhh, yes… we do, Batsy.” Joker pulls out another gun from his coat pocket, aims, and shoots it directly at Batman. The pistol shoots, but only a tiny flag comes out. Harley covers his mouth to stop herself from laughing. Joker stares at the pistol and sighs heavily, abandoning it to the side. “I never do get the last laugh, do I?” Batman doesn’t answer. Joker huffs as Batman silently offers out a hand to him. Joker takes it reluctantly, Batman pulling him to his feet with ease. Ivy almost gasps behind Harley. Joker stares at him with a pouty expression. Batman stares back at him grimly. “Well, what are you waiting for? Aren’t you going to take me in?” Batman is quiet, letting a long pause silence the Joker entirely.

“Jack,” Batman speaks. It’s soft, almost too soft to hear. But Harley, who is listening ever so intently, hears it clearer than day. No one ever knew who the Joker really was, supposedly not even Batman. But this proved, along with his neutral body language, there is more going on here that nobody truly knows. Ivy listens intently too, leaning against Harley’s back to peek. Joker’s eyes widen a little, his mouth thinning. “I can help you. Let me help you.” Joker brushes the dirt off of his purple blazer. He begins to circle Batman, seemingly aggravated. 

“Help me?” spits Joker, voice full of contempt. “That’s funny–– really funny.” Batman seems to _ shudder_, as if hurt by his words. Harley does all she can to remain silent. Ivy does the very same. “What makes you think I can be helped, Bruce?” Harley takes in the scene, her throat suddenly becoming dry. They both knew their names and, now, Harley and Ivy know their names too. She is utterly unsure what to do with this information. She tries to swallow, her body sliding down to sit. Ivy looks to her, mimicking her once more. She inhales deeply, her breathing becoming shaky. Ivy takes her hand once more and Harley looks at her and smiles. Then, she turns her head to peek out again and returns to listening in.

“I had hoped…” Batman trails off. Joker snaps his head in his direction, standing shoulder to shoulder with him. He furrows his green brows, his lip curled in a strange way Harley has never seen. 

“You’ve always been hopeful.” Batman tilts his head to him slightly, wincing before he speaks. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, I never––“

“I know you don’t. You don’t put any effort into it,” interrupts Joker. He looks around the stands, as if searching for someone. Harley and Ivy duck their heads back in the doorway to hide. He stares at the booth for a while before redirecting his focus to Batman entirely. 

“Can’t you try?” Batman says. “If not for yourself…” What goes unheard is obvious to everyone who is listening. Joker meets Batman’s gaze and he smiles dolefully at him. He pulls off one of his leather gloves. He lowers the same hand and hooks his pointer finger with Bat’s. Harley doesn’t miss the white eyes expanding at the contact. He returns the gesture, albeit, weakly.

“I would if I could. Would if I could…” Joker speaks. 

“You can,” Batman says. Joker furrows his brows remorsefully.

“I can’t.” His tone is laced with finality. The Bat does not accept this.

“You can,” Batman repeats. Joker’s pitiful smile turns into a scowl. 

“I won’t.” Joker unlinks his finger. Batman doesn’t seem to mind in his desperation.

“You will,” says Batman defiantly. “I will make it happen. All you have to do is come with me.” He turns his body to him and holds out his hand once more. Joker stares at the hand blankly. Then, he looks back up to Batman. “Please.” Joker searches his eyes, a careful expression on his face. Harley has never seen that either. She knows the look though. She’s seen it on television when they replay Casablanca and those old-time detective movies. All the girls sport it when they look at the love of their life. They all sport it when they have to hurt them. Harley suspects that this is no different. But, she also knows Joker is never one to be predictable. His eyes are glossy and his body language seems tense. The pause feels like it lasts for infinity.

“I’ll do it” –– Joker takes his hand briefly, slipping a playing card into Batman’s gloved hand –– “but on my own terms.” Batman takes the card as Joker lingers. “Thank you, Bruce…” That name is spoken again, alerting Harley that she is listening in to a private conversation. A conversation that, if anyone else was listening to, could damn them both to Hell. 

“I don’t break promises, Jack.” Joker nods to himself, smiling to himself. Then, he walks away and out of the derby, Batman watching him until he disappears into the distance. When he’s gone, Batman looks down at the card and smiles ruefully. Harley has never seen Batman smile. Tonight, she has seen a lot of things she has never seen before. It gives her great pause. She remains still in place, turning her head to meet Ivy’s gaze. Harley squeezes Ivy’s hand in her own. They look around, paranoid with the information they now have running through them. What makes it worse for Harley is it didn’t even confirm what she had been looking for in the first place. Sure, they had that weird hand thing but that didn’t mean anything. Ivy held her hand all the time. But, then again, she does have a thing for Ivy. With the absurdity of it all going through her head, Harley begins to laugh. Ivy looks at her, eyes wide with fear. She is quick to cover her mouth with her hand, looking around anxiously. 

“Harls!” she whispers harshly. “What are you doing? We got to get out of here! He could have heard you––“ Harley points to the opposite side of the booth, her finger shaking as she does. Batman towers over them. Ivy narrows her eyes at him, in a feeble attempt to intimidate him back. It fails but not spectacularly enough for anyone to really notice it. He looks directly to Harley and she to him. There is a silent exchange there that Harley cannot fully translate. With his silence and towering presence, he manages to say everything he needs to without speaking at all. He seems to say what Harley wants him to say. It’s a shame that he actually does talk; he shatters the illusion in an instant with his first greetings. 

“Quinn,” he states. “Ivy.” Ivy stands up promptly, pulling Harley up with her. 

“Batman,” Ivy greets back. “Or… Bruce, isn’t it?” She smirks to herself while Harley avoids meeting Batman’s gaze. He doesn’t acknowledge Ivy and doesn’t flinch in any compacity. Ivy notices this, huffing to herself. 

“Quinn, we need to talk,” Batman speaks. “Privately.” Ivy, furious, steps closer to him with a visible snarl. 

“Whatever you need to say to her, you can say to both of us!” says Ivy aggressively. "I was listening too!" Harley looks at Ivy and then at Batman, who appears ever so pained. It’s the invisible kind though. The kind that Harley knows all too well. Harley steps forward as well, turning to Ivy with a smile.

“It’s okay, Red. I think I can champ this one out.” Ivy gives her a questioning look.

“Are you sure, Harls?” she asks.

“Yes, I’ll be fine. He ain’t gonna kill me.” Ivy glares up at the Bat but allows it, letting Batman and Harley leave the booth. Harley follows Batman as he takes her out of the derby and towards the carousel. The lights that were on before, as well as the music, have all faded completely. It makes the scenery around them infinitely more unsettling without it. There is a long silence, broken by Harley’s simple impatience. “So... what do you want to talk about?” she asks. He doesn’t answer, making her nervous. “If it’s about what we heard, we won’t tell anyone, I promise!” 

“Is he lying?” Batman asks suddenly. Harley tries to swallow again, finding her throat is still parched. He doesn’t look at Harley when he says it. No, he’s staring off into the distance, looking vaguely in the direction of the Ferris Wheel. Harley can tell he is thinking of something — or, rather, _ someone _ — else. 

“How would I know? He never even told me his name.” Batman seems to recoil at that, tilting his head in her direction with his back still facing her. 

“I’ve known him since we were kids...” he mutters softly. Harley takes in the information slowly. “All this time I’ve been trying to save him, by locking him away and fighting him. It’s never worked before, why should it work now?” He seems to be reasoning with himself. Harley shakes her head subtlety.

“Perhaps, he’s had a change of heart?” Harley purposes. “Or, maybe, he knows ya have no fight left in ya.” Harley approaches him standing at his side. Standing next to the Bat can make anyone feel small and Harley is surely no exception. But, in the small subdue moment they are sharing, he doesn’t seem as frightening. If anything, he is the one who seems to be frightened. “Were ya friends? In the past?” Batman stills, his fingers curling into a fist. Harley reads his body language and finds that it isn’t angry or really even directed at ner. It’s just general discomfort with the foreign discussion. 

“Yes,” he answers. “I don’t think I’ll be doing this for very much longer, Quinn.” She raises an eyebrow. 

“Whaddya mean?” He doesn’t look in her direction, sighing heavily. 

“I have a plan,” he says lowly. Harley doesn’t pry him to figure out what that means. It isn’t for her to know. She does, however, seek the information she came here for in the first place. She refuses to look at him when she starts to speak again, letting the moment breath more. It’s hard to ask because she has this feeling that she already knows. She is assailed constantly by the memory of her fall into the chemical bath. She remembers ever so vividly how Batman looked when he saw her fall. She remembers the way he turned to Joker horrified. She remembers every part of it. Ever so present in her memory, it mocks her and spits in her face for thinking that there was anything else to it. But, she manages to find a suitable arrangement of words that don’t hurt as much as they would without the inherent filter. 

“Just friends, then?” Harley asks. He looks at her, fist curled and straight-faced. 

“Does it matter?” he snaps. It reminds Harley of how Joker reacted whenever she came up with a plan. However, this time, Harley is less than fearful. She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. He’s defensive, which only means that whatever she just touched is a sore spot. It only makes it more suspicious, regardless of what she has seen tonight. 

“It does. To me.” She’s confronting it directly now, which _does_ scare her. She briefly wonders if it is even worth knowing now. They have history, they have a connection, seemingly unbreakable. Harley never had that; Harley could never compete. Joker — or _Jack,_ apparently — always had this intensity for Batman, in a way that was never replicated for her. She had always been jealous — rightfully so — simply because he stole all her attention. But as she looks at him, waiting for him to answer, she gains complete and total clarity. All Joker ever truly wanted, in all his murders and schemes, was _ attention _ from Batman. Attention, the thing that had driven her to begin with. Attention, which brought her here, having a heart to heart with the Bat. Attention, which had been stolen from her rather recently by someone who was much better for her than Joker. Attention, which had mocked her and prayed on her for so many years, now would be the thing that she’s leaving behind. She almost sighs in ecstasy at the mere image of abandoning all those years of anxious moments and sleepless nights. Batman doesn’t falter to give her an answer, despite it all. She finds the space more peaceful than she did before, the fairgrounds. The eeriness is gone, replaced with a relaxing quiet that soothes Harley. Everything is clear as day.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. The blow isn’t half as painful as she had anticipated it to be. “I tried to tell you but you wouldn’t listen.” Harley lets the air clear before giggling faintly. It is pure relief and freedom that fills her body, the sound rumbling through her clearing her body of toxicity that used to occupy it. All of the moods, pressure, and jealously exits quicker than it came. Harley couldn’t be happier. Her laughter fades and she decides to let her thoughts run free as well. 

“Perhaps,” she offers. “Perhaps, I didn’t want to hear.” She sighs, shuddering as she does. It is of anything but pain. But the Bat does not share this freedom or painless elation. He looks broken and miserable. It isn’t necessarily out of character for him but it isn’t normal for _ anyone _ to be that way. She wonders if he is the sole reason for all of the Bat’s pain; she doubts this but she doesn’t focus too long on what-if’s. “Don’t let him hurt ya, Bats. Not like me, 'kay?” She knows it’s practically meaningless now. She says it anyway. Batman laughs, yet another surprising action from him, mirthlessly. 

“Too late.” His tone is rather humorous and self-deprecating. She offers him a pat on the shoulder; she can feel his body flinch from it. She removes her hand and looks up to him. Harley waits until he looks back. 

“Guess this is goodbye then?” He nods at her slowly. Harley nods back at him, looking down at the dirt. She smiles to herself, sorrowful. It passes quickly, thinking of all the things she can do without the burden that always weighed her down. Her smile brightens and she slaps Batman on the shoulder. He looks to her in momentary shock. “Go get him, tiger.” Then, she walks away from the Bat and returns to Ivy. 

“Did he hurt you?” Ivy asks. Ivy looks her up and down, turning her chin with her fingers to find any wounds. Harley laughs, with no fear of who will hear. 

“No, Red, he didn’t.” When she finds nothing, they leave the fairgrounds the same way they entered. Where the Bat and Harley had stood only a few minutes prior, there are only footprints left in their wake. The Bat is out of sight but Harley gets the sense he is watching. She smiles to herself, grasping Ivy’s hand in her own and her new plushie friend in the other. Ivy quirks an eyebrow but says nothing, content with the reasonless affection. Before they leave completely, Ivy stops and turns to her, a spark of curiosity on her face.

“So... what did you and the Bat talk about?” Ivy asks. “Did you find out what you wanted?”

“Yes, I did,” she answers. 

“Are you going to tell anyone? Are we going to tell anyone?” Ivy continues. “Are you going to tell me?”

“Nah,” Harley says, looking out into the stars. It is a rare occasion for Gotham to display such stars. Most of the time, the cloudy rain covers them up. They twinkle in place, bold against the pitch-black skyline. Harley smiles even more. Ivy looks up to the stars briefly before returning her attention to Harley. “It ain’t my problem anymore.” Then, what Ivy said before pops into her head.

_ “But, only on one condition.” _

“So, whaddya want, Red?” Ivy raises an eyebrow, her realization coming shortly after. Her pretty lips smile faintly against her mint-tinted skin.

“About that,” Ivy starts. “I was thinking–– well, I have been thinking about this for a while––and I-I just want to ask you a question.” Her nervousness alarms Harley; she has never once seen her in this state of anxiousness before. “Do you want to come with me?” she blurts out.

“What?” Harley is surprised; she expected something much different to come from Ivy. Moving again isn’t exactly a new concept for them. 

“Out of Gotham, I mean,” clarifies Ivy. Harley’s lips form a circle, whispering “oh” to anyone close enough to hear. Ivy hears it and smiles faintly, almost desperately. “My babies cannot stay in Gotham much longer, with all the pollution and people. I just don’t think I can leave… without you, Harley.” Harley smiles at Ivy in pure sincerity. 

“Of course I’ll come with ya, Red!” Harley exclaims. “I don’t think I’d go anywhere without ya.” She points at her chest with the stuffed animal and giggles. A wave of relief floods Ivy’s features. Her body loosens of all her previous tension. She relaxes in the knowledge that Harley decides to stick with her. She smiles back, unable to contain the joy. Harley grabs her hand, pulls Ivy closer with her arm slung around Ivy’s neck, drops the beaver plushie in the process, and bites her bottom lip. Ivy’s breath hitches slightly, her eyes entranced with Harley’s lips, rather how Harley is with her. She leans forward, kissing Ivy gently. She’s cautious and, when she pulls back, it isn’t for long.

The Bat takes off, with newfound determination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and Kudos, everybody! Let me know if I have any grammatical errors on this one. It was very briefly edited to get it out quicker. Anyway, thanks again.


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